


By the Fury and the Fang

by Bellsastuff



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Amani, Gen, M/M, OC/OC - Freeform, Troll - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-06
Updated: 2014-05-06
Packaged: 2018-01-23 18:19:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1575029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellsastuff/pseuds/Bellsastuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the Amani empire, there is no weapon more feared than a trained Primal Warrior.  These are the collected tales of one warrior, Halk'at.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (Hey there. Decided to post my collected tales of my Troll OC here. Primal lore is pretty much nil, so I made up my own. Enjoy.)

The witch doctors had come by their hut one day, following the news of Kall’at’s marked son. Nerak’ul watched them with careful eyes, a babe not more than 3 weeks old suckling as she watched the road for her mate, anxiety ebbing slightly as the short, stocky warrior finally appeared. Throwing his burden of newly cut pine to the ground, he clapped his hands together, saying in his typical booming voice, “So you’ve come to see my bastard.”

The elder of the witch doctor, tearing his eyes finally from the small boy brutally wrestling his older brother to the ground, gave Kall’at an imperious nod. “We’ve heard the boy has markings?”

Nerak’ul nodded quickly, cursing her luck as her stomach rumbled, the smell of the stewpot in the hut almost painful. “His ears. Black on the ends.”

"Does he hiss?" The witch doctor asked, paying close attention to the boy, sizing him up. "When startled, that is. Does he bite more than normal? Any issues with anger? Does he ever snap, just like that?"

Kall’at, a baffled look on his face, looked to Nerak’ul as she nodded slowly. “Anger, yes. The boy can’t be controlled, he’s a monster. Beats his siblings half to death, eats us out of house and home. I hear him talking to spirits at all hours, he is a menace.” She spat out, sending up a silent prayer to Ula’tekk that her speech did not sound as rehearsed as it felt.

"He doesn’t seem as bad as all that." Kall’at rumbled, scratching idly at his thick muttonchops.

"You are never home to see!" She snapped, the youngest of the witch doctors’ eyes growing wide. "I’m here with 11 children, soon to be 12, I know that he’s a monster!"

"It does interest me." The elder mused. Nerak’ul felt a shiver in the small of her back as he turned his masked eyes to her. "It seems as though Primals always seem to come from these large families. We hear how uncontrollable, how unruly, how dangerous they are, how they can’t be kept around the other children. The mothers all look the same to me, wan and thin, overworked and always with one more on the way. And when we’re asked to come look at them, they’re almost always a bastard child, and not of the mother’s. That’s how this one came about, eh?"

Fury ripped through her, gritting her teeth as she choked out, “I do not like what you are implying. I raise my children, they are fed and cared for. This one is different, and how dare you-“

He moved faster than she’d expected, bringing the back of his hand down hard on her cheek , slamming her to the ground at the baby in her arms squalled. “I shouldn’t have to remind you of your place, woman. Kall’at, call the child over.”

Kall’at nodded, “Of course, of course.” He took in a deep breath and went to holler before looking back to Nerak’ul, eyes blank.

"Halk’at." She said over the wailing of the baby in her arms, slowly getting to her feet. "His name is Halk’at."

"Halk’at, come here!" He roared, the children stopping as they stared at their half brother. The boy slowly got up off of his sibling as he slowly walked over, yellow eyes wary.

The elder witch doctor hummed, ears perking slightly in interest as he reached for the boy. Halk’at’s nostrils flared as he came closer, stepping back quickly as his lips drew back, showing his teeth as Kall’at came behind him, resting his broad hands on his son’s shoulders. “He’s a tough little bastard, this one!” he said with a chuckle.

"So I see." The witch doctor muttered, coming forth to grab one of the boy’s ears roughly, ignorely the hissing and fidgeting as he examined the black points to his ears approvingly. "He has been marked by Halazzi." He said with a nod, motioning to his two apprentices behind him. "See the black? Like the tip of a lynx’s ears. And look at his nose, how broad it is? And the yellow eyes, even! And his build, not too broad like Nal’orakk’s marks or whip thin like Akil’zon. And the teeth, the sharpness of the canines, they’ll grow out further if he passes his trial but even now you can see - Damnit boy!" He hissed as the boy’s teeth sunk deep into his palm, Kall’at’s hand quick to grab his hair and pull him off but not quick enough.

Watching the blood pool in his palm for a moment, the with doctor nodded to Kall’at. “We’ll be taking him then.”

"Good." Nerak’ul said quickly. "When?"

Shooting the woman a vicious glare, the witch doctor spat, “Woman, get to your hut as a woman should, I am sick of hearing you speak.” After a nod from Kall’at, Nerak’ul slunk back into their hut. As his son fidgeted under his grip, Kall’at licked his lips, saying slowly, “I am fond of the boy, as you can understand. Good fighter, takes after me. Are you… so sure this is necessary?”

"He has been marked for Halazzi. This, frankly, is out of your hands. We’ve taken some for testing that aren’t marked like the boy and some pass, but this one? He will either die a child or as a Primal man. If you keep him here, do you know how he will age? He will be restless, dangerous. You have seen the grown Primals in battle, Kall’at. You have seen them in their encampment in the outskirts of the city. They aren’t fit to be around regular people, menaces to society. What you have is a blade, and a powerful one, for the Amani people, and it is a blade that must be wielded correctly under our care. You will give him to us. And if he lives, you will see in him in battle and know that though you didn’t teach him, he is still of your blood."

Kall’at still hesitated, his wide fingers gripping the boys shoulders even firmer. “Let him keep his family name and I will agree to it. Let him stay Halk’at.”

The witch doctor nodded, snapping to his assistant as he was given a small potion. “Hold him firm.” Kall’at nodded, slipping a hand under the boy’s jaw as he kept him in place as the witch doctor poured the noxious brew into his mouth, forced his jaw shut and pinching his nostrils till the boy finally swallowed, managing to fight the potion for a few moments before finally growing limp. 

He was light, Kall’at mused as he looked down to his strange feral son, gathering him into his arms as he muttered quietly, “May your battles be sweet and your death be worthy.” He passed him over to one of the assistants, blinking as he heard the elder say something. “What?”

"Which of these is your mate’s favorite?" He repeated, a cruel grin on his face.

"Ah." Kall’at pointed to the small boy that Halk’at had been wrestling with previously, his nose bleeding as he slowly picked himself up. "Neruj’at. The boy is thinking all the damned time, no taste for blood. She spoils him." 

The elder smirked, “Yes, he will do. Bring him for training with the witch doctors in the morning. And don’t tell the woman, her lack of respect doesn’t reflect well on you Kall’at, be considered lucky that this is your reprimand. And he’ll be loosing the family name, this one will simply be Neruj.” The witch doctor nodded with a smug grin as he and his assistants began to head of towards the encampment.

Kall’at watched them go, watched the small smudge of bright red hair till they could not be seen anymore as he rubbed his hands together, brows knit. “Good bye, boy.”


	2. First Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (And here is my take on how a Primal becomes a Primal)

Halk’at stirred slowly, a deep shiver in his bones as he wiped at his face miserably. It had been a week since he’d been drugged at his parents’ hut and woken up in the deep forest with nothing but a small, rough hewn dagger. One of his older brothers had taken him out into the woods before to gather firewood, but this land held none of the familiar pines he’d always known, dotted instead with thickets of silvery birch. He’d tried to set out for home, but only seemed to keep getting himself more and more lost in the forest.

The worst part was the thirst. He’d found a stream on his first day and fallen on it, but later that night he’d grown sick, stomach rebelling as he vomited constantly, stomach cramping up fiercely upon itself. Ever since, thirst seemed to consume him and he drank from as far upstream as he could, but it seemed hit and miss for whether he’d spend the night in pain again. He’d stumbled upon a bit of luck when he’d found a rotting tree, pulling it open to pick at the fat wood grubs inside. Sleep had come to him peacefully that night as he curled into the boughs of a birch, finally feeling warm and full.

His brother had promised to teach him how to trap, but hadn’t had time to actually do it and that fact infuriated Halk as he saw all of these rabbits and birds run around while he starved. “He should have taught me!” He snarled from his hiding place in a birch. “Pa should have been there, made him do it.” He would growl, his fury building and building until tears came down his face, filling him with a sudden rush of hot shame. He missed home bitterly, missed his father’s booming voice and the warm pallet he slept on with his siblings. He missed having food in a big stewpot that he could take whenever he wanted, missed wrestling with Neruj, he even missed Mama swatting at him. He cried till it seemed like all he ever did, curled up into himself on the branch of a birch tree, not believing that he’d get get to go home.

But now, on this morning, it seemed he wasn’t alone.

He started as he sleepily registered what was perched on the branch with him, almost falling out of the tree. In front of him was the largest lynx he’d ever seen, fur a deep scarlet and eyes so deep that it seemed that he could fall into them. The beast cocked his head, and Halk’at could hear a rumbling voice that reverberated deep into his skull. 

'A whole week.' It mused. 'Generally, you children are weaker sooner than that. I've had to wait so long.' Halk froze as the lynx came in closer, slamming his eyes shut as the lynx sniffed at his face, giving his left eyelid a long, scratchy lick. 'And so many angry tears. Such an angry little cub. Come now, open your eyes again.'

Halk’at opened his eyes tenatively, not daring to look into it’s eyes. ‘Do you know me?’

"Halazzi." He whispered. "The lynx."

'That's right.' Halazzi purred, rubbing at Halk's small hand. 'Come. We've things to do.' As the lynx gracefully leapt down, he slowly followed suit, mind racing as he remembered all of Ma's stories about the fury of the loa, of the power they held, the glory, the danger. The lynx looked back, slitted eyes blinking as the big cat studied him for a moment.

'Are you scared?'

Halk jumped down from the tree, landing hard as he nodded, unable to look over at him. “Yes.”

'Good.'

The lynx sprang into a lope as Halk ran behind him. A fine tremble had settled onto his body, a combination of exhaustion, hunger and thirst leaving him feeling weaker than he ever had. His breath left him raggedly, but he set his jaw, stubbornly pushing himself forward.

'Do you know why the Amani fight the elves, boy?'

Halk startled, head flying up as he blinked at the lynx, panting out, “They took our lands.”

'That's right.' Halazzi purred. 'The Amani empire once stretched far and wide, holding the green north in a firm grasp. The Gurubashi were never a match for your people, and us loa grew strong from your people's strength. The Amani scratched out cities into this land, and the times were sweet.'

'At that time, the world was at one, not split apart as it is now. And far away, the elves were rising to power, stealing the secrets of troll magic as they began to wield it and bend it to their own will. Their idiocy caused the world to shatter and split as the world nearly tore itself apart. For all their power, even the Amani were hit heavily by this destruction and countless died. But your people are strong, stubbourn, and they began to rebuild.'

'But the elves, they had destroyed their home and went searching for a new one. They took one look at the verdant forests and lush land of the North and the power that the Amani had cultivated under the soil and they decided to take the land for their own. They looked at the Amani, at your thatched huts and your simple ways, and they thought you would be easy enough to drive out, like you would an infestation.' Halazzi chuckled. 'Three thousand years of Amani fury has shown them how wrong that assumption was.'

'They built their city of filth over the loa's sacred lands, they call on the wellspring that was made for us in an attempt to take this land for their own and yet we have not been cowed. We have fought back for three thousand years, and now, a new dawn is rising on the Amani empire. The elves will be driven out, and the Amani will destroy every sign that they ever plagued these lands.'

Halazzi finally slowed to a stop and Halk collapsed to the ground, trying to catch his breath as he realized with a start that it was already dusk. ‘A whole day went by?’ He wondered, shaking his head as he stared at the dry silvery grass under him, trying to get his bearings. 

He felt a rush of hot breath on one of his ears as he slowly lifted his head, falling again into the deep yellow of the lynx’s eyes. His world shrunk down, the ka-thunk of his heartbeat in his chest roaring in his ears. A smell of blood and pine washed over him as the lynx breathed out, voice almost gentle.

'When you were born, squalling into the cold air, furious even then, I knew you. I knew of your ferocity, your devotion, your strength. You were mine, and I marked you ears so everyone would know. I have an offer for you, boy. You will be as one of my kits, strong and fierce. Everywhere you go, I will be with you. Each kill you make, I will be there to rumble encouragement into your ears and make your aim true. You will have every tool to defend you and yours and you will be able to avenge me, to avenge your people. I have seen you, and I know that greatness lies before you.'

'There is a price, and not an easy one. You will devote yourself to me, and me only. No one will be held higher, not your mate, not your family, not even your people. And you will never be able to stop fighting for me. Your life will not be an easy one, it will be filled with pain and sorrow.' Halk shivered as he felt the rasp of the lynx's tongue on his bright red hair. 'Will you be mine?'

Ma never had stroked his hair like that, he thought numbly. She’d never touched him except to slap him or cuff him around the ears. His brothers and his sisters, they had always kept away from him, spooked by his black ears and later, by his anger. Pa would lay a hand on his head idly at times but only when he was back at the hut for a few days in between battles. And Pa had given him up, held him still while he let the witch doctors drug him and left him out in the woods to die.

But Halazzi wanted him. One of the loa wanted *him*.

He lifted his head, jaw set as he nodded, “Please.” He whispered.

The lynx gave a purr that seemed to shake his bones apart as Halk gasped in air, each breath tasting like embers as heat raced through his veins. As he slowly brought himself to his feet, his head spun with the clarity around him. Even in the dusk, each silvery leaf on the nearby birches was visible and his ears, he could hear a dragonhawk lapping water from the stream to the south. A sneeze tore from him as the scent of cologne, thick and cloying, reached his nose.

Halazzi rubbed himself against Halk, rumbling voice still purring. ‘You smell him now. Good. He is a ranger, thinks himself clever for having found himself a good spot to watch the outskirts of Zul’Aman, hidden by his magics. But he forgets, ah, he forgets the loa. They always do.’

Halk swayed, licking his lips suddenly as his muscles ached from standing still. “Can I kill him?”

That elicited another purr, Halazzi’s voice almost jubilant. ‘Yes.’ He hissed. ‘Yes you will. You will slide behind him, every step whisper quiet, and you grab hold of his hair, snap his head back and draw your blade against his neck. You have time yet to give me glorious battles, for now, a clean quick death will do.’

It was as if he was walking in a dream as he crept behind the elf, his movements soft and hushed as he slipped through the shadows. The elf never even heard him, never sensed him until Halk’s small dagger was at his throat, slicing it open with a force that rocketed through the 5 year old’s arm. He gasped hard as his nose was filled with the smell of warm blood, looking to Halazzi as he let the body fall.

'Good job, kit.' The lynx purred, tongue rasping along Halk's cheek. 'Now, use your knife to crack open the ribcage and cut out the heart, you know how. It's in your blood, as easy as breathing.'

Halk turned the corpse, head swimming as he followed the lynx’s directions dutifully, staring at the still twitching heart in his hands. ‘Eat. Your enemies have power in them, the better fight, the more power. To show respect to their power, you have to take it into yourself. And for the power that you gain, the more is passed onto me. But you must only eat what you have fought, if you take on the life force of a lesser being, it only taints you, and will displease me. Go on, eat.’

He was suddenly starving as he bit down, tasting hot copper on his tongue. His teeth ached for a moment, but suddenly they sheared through the flesh, his canines longer and sharp. The child ate quietly, listening to the lynx next to him purr.

'Good. You feel how your teeth have grown? How your forehead has grown thicker? How your nails have become thick and sharp, like claws? How power beats through your veins? That is because you are mine and mine alone now. You will need no weapon, besides your own fangs and claws. Most should know you on sight, but some are stupid, so you will bear my mark as well. Dip your fingers in his heartblood, and paint a stripe above your eyes and below, and then line your eyes with two strips down your nose like mine.'

The lynx watched with careful eyes as Halk applied the blood, hands shaking as adrenaline started to leave him as he wobbled on his feet. ‘Yes, good. You can use paint next time, but for your first kill, you deserve to wear his heart blood. Sit down, before you fall down.’

Halk sat heavily, yawning widely as he eyed the lynx, voice quiet as he asked, “Did I do it right?”

'Yes. Yes, you did very well.' The loa said with a chuckle, coming up behind him as Halk felt himself picked up by the scruff of his neck, body growing slack as he was held, eyes growing heavier and heavier. 'You'll serve me well.'


	3. The Worst Concubine

The sound of footfalls wrenched him from sleep as surely as if he’d been dowsed in water. Halk’at snapped up, nostrils flaring as he scented first and then looked second, ears straight up in the air as his eyes adjusted to the night. Kato’s bulk was heavy beside him, the Nal’orakk Primal having responded in kind to the sound and settled to cover Halk’s back as they surveyed the dark pine forest for whoever had made the noise.

He felt Kato huff and relax against him, “See him. Jan’alai Primal kid that hangs on Noran, coming up the path. You see anything else?”

Halk shook his head, relaxing in turn as he growled, “We only got back from a fucking scouting mission a few hours ago and he’s coming up here ta fuckin’ bug us? What a pest.”

Kato snorted as he settled back down carefully onto their bedrolls, grunting in pain as his hand darted down to his bandaged gut for a moment. “He could just be walking by or something.”

"He knows we’re up here, and I know that Noran’s told him to not bug me when I’m sleeping after a mission. Woke up swinging and cracked his jaw before. And you need sleep and shit." He stood, growling a bit. "I’ll go run him off." 

Kato’s thick, mud covered hair bobbed as he positioned himself back down, snorting as Halk gave him a friendly smack on his thickly muscled thigh. “Just don’t kill the kid. You aren’t in the best shape either.”

Halk’at grinned toothily, “Well enough to scare a dragonhawk.” He headed in the direction of the path, sniffing the air as he frowned. An acrid stink laced Anok’s scent, a heavy undertone of panic that set Halk on edge. “Kid.” He hollered. “What’s up?”

Anok finally came into view, the moon reflecting here and there on the strips of painted leather that hung in his hair, a terrified look on his face. “Noran.” He panted. “The witch doctors came for him yesterday and they just brought him back and it’s bad Halk, it’s real bad. He keeps talking about how he feels Akil’zon everywhere it’s…” He shut his eyes, taking a deep breath. “I can’t calm him down.”

Halk stiffened, eyes widening as he swore. “Fuck, fuckin’ fuck fuck fuck.” Running his hands through his hair, he shut his eyes. “No one else saw? Have you told anyone else? Got him away from the main compound?”

"I saw his face when he came back and got him out into the woods as fast as I could." He said, ears drooping as his thin shoulders sagged miserably. "Haven’t told anyone else, I just came for you as soon as I could."

Nodding, Halk motioned behind him with his head. “Good. Come on, gotta get my stuff. You’re gonna need to stay with Kato, he got his shit rocked on the trip, shouldn’t stay alone. You leave him near the rocks?”

Anok followed him as they jogged back to Kato, “Yeah, he was talking about being the king of the skies when I left him.” He muttered, nodding to Kato as the Nal’orakk Primal lifted his head, looking curiously at them as he muttered. “What’s up?”

Halk snagged his pack, slinging it over his shoulder. “Witch doctors must have been experimenting with Noran, he’s lost it. Anok’s gonna stay with ya, yeah? Sorry man, I said I’d stay with you-“

"Go. If he’s acting like a crazy fucker, only a matter of time before someone tries to put him down. I’ll be just fine. Besides, this kid sure can’t take him down, and you have that whole bullshit routine down." Kato rumbled, lifting a hand as he waved it in the air in a shooing motion. "The fuck are you waiting for." 

Halk huffed, pivoting towards the encampment as he broke out into fast jog. The thick pine trees started to the thin as he came upon the main encampment for the Primals, with several sets of longhouses for the tusklings, the rare older Primals and the severely injured. Set back away from Zul’Aman, the sounds of the city softly filtered through the trees to reach Halk’s ears, but the hum was quiet over the noisy din of his haggard breathing. Set to the east was the rocky outcropping that Noran seemed to haunt when things went wrong and despite the annoyed looks of from the Primals who were talking around an open fire, he tore through the camp and up the steep slope to try and kick some sense back into his friend.

His calves had begun to burn as the moonlit limestone began to grow closer and closer. His right hip felt like it had been freshly lit on fire, an old wound having been exacerbated in a skirmish with an elven raiding party. But despite the distractions of the aches and pains of his young body, he had still caught the sound of an arrow being notched in time, dropping flat to the ground as the arrow buried into the tree behind him. “Anok, you stupid god damned fucker.” He hissed into the ground. “Noran goes nuts and you let him keep his damned bow?!”

Shaking his head, he lifted his chin. As his hands quivered with rage and adrenaline, he forced himself to take a deep shuddering breath. “Noran.” He called out, voice steady and calm, “How ya doin’, buddy?”

There was a moment of silence before he heard a lofty, “I am the king of the skies.”

Halk shut his eyes for a moment as he took another deep breath. “That sounds really awesome, man. Mind if I come over there and we can talk about what you’re gonna do as king?”

Another pause stretched through the air as Halk nervously dug his claws into the dirt. He did not want to do this the hard way, not with Noran. He let out a greatful breath as he heard, “Yes, we can discuss my glorious reign.”

Halk eased himself upright, taking slow steps as he headed up the hill, hands held out in front of him as he bowed his head and shoulders. “Hey man, how’s it going? Been a while since I’ve been back, yeah? Anok’s looking real good, glad to see that. Kato got pretty beat to shit but he’ll live. How’s your new bow coming along?” He said, voice quietly and friendly, a sing song cadence to his words as his heart thumped heavy in his chest. 

"I need no bow. I am lightning, I leap through the clouds and cast myself onto the enemies of the Amani empire."

Moving as slowly as he could, Halk angled his head slightly to catch a peek at his old friend, barely resisting the urge to curse as he caught sight of the intricately carved long bow still in his hands. “Yeah? That’s pretty neat. Better than what I can do, for sure.”

Noran shifted and Halk froze, keeping his body language as still and submissive as he could, jumping a bit as he felt Noran embrace him. His long arms wrapped around Halk’s chest, a graceful and calloused hand settling in his hair as Noran leaned down to press his lips to Halk’s forehead, mindful of his slim, short tusks. “You will be one of my concubines. It will be a great honor.”

'You have got to be kidding me.'

Halk pressed his lips together as he somehow resisted the urge to beat his friend. “Thanks buddy. Means a lot.” He muttered gruffly, still not daring to move. “Missed you too. So uh. I hear you saw the witch doctors? How’d that go?”

A loud click was heard as Noran clacked his teeth together, worry pooling cold in Halk’s chest. Noran clicked his teeth like Halk huffed and Anok swayed, nervous habits that were common with the Primals, varying based off of their loa. And Anok hated it, constantly making fun of the other Akil’zon Primals as he would lean over and mutter to Halk, “Would you look there, they are like a herd of cows chewing at cud.”

If Anok was far enough gone to be clacking and not making some kind of comment about it, that didn’t bode well for either of them. Halk slowly eased his hands up to return the embrace, voice quiet. “Yeah man. I know. No one leaves them and feels great about it the next day. Tell you what, how’s about you sit down and I’ll put some new feathers in your hair and we’ll just chill out-“

Halk had kept careful track of where Noran’s head was as he spoke, heart sinking as the Akil’zon Primal begun to tilt his head. As Noran dove down at his neck, teeth bared, Halk ducked down and to the side, a growl slipping out of him as he leapt back. A rumble tore through his bones as Halazzi stirred in anger at the challenge that had been made, feeling the boiling of fury that was his blessing when he was in battle, but was the last thing that he needed now.

Noran went to notch his bow as Halk dove in, slamming his forehead against his friends nose, using the distraction to grab his wrist and twist till it cracked. Halk took a tusk to the shoulder, but taking the bow out of the equation was more than worth it. He went to twist up and grab at Noran’s thick hair, but a flare of pain in his hip rang out, pausing him as the Akil’zan Primal took the opening. His talon like nails raked down hard on Halk’s chest, so sharp that the pain didn’t even appear for a few moments, blood blooming across his chest.

There were many Primals that Halk would have enjoyed fighting. But Noran was not one of them. Friends were rare among the Primals, the constant pitting against each other in the pits didn’t tend to endear anyone to get too attatched. Either you would make a friend and watch them get slaughtered in the pits, or have to go against them yourself. It was better to not get too close. Easier.

But on one of their first scouting missions, Halk had been paired up with Noran and almost immediately, they had clicked. Halk couldn’t help but to admire his smart mouth and acidic sense of humor and for some reason that he still didn’t understand, Noran seemed to enjoy Halk’s company as well. They worked eerily well together and after somehow managing to avoid fighting each other in the ring and not getting killed themselves, they had managed to survive to adulthood together.

Halk didn’t want to do this. But if another Primal saw the chance to take out a competitor in a weakened state, they would take it. And Halk’at wasn’t about to let that happen, not to his friend.

Pivoting onto his good leg, he fell in close to Noran, driving his fists into his leather plated chest, watching for an opening as he tried to at least slow him down or wind him a little. But Noran was as good as he was and was even faster thanks to the witch doctor’s brew, and he kept landing with his vicious talons, the moss on Halk’s fur growing sodden with his blood.

While he was faster, Noran had almost lost his usual precision, and Halk noticed how he shifted to his right leg in an exaggerated fashion as he swung with his left. It wasn’t out of the realm of possibility for Noran to have been trying to lure him in closer, but this was all too sloppy. As Noran shifted his weight, Halk slammed into his chest, pitching him off balance as they slammed into the ground.

The moment they were on the ground, Halk brought his legs up, using them to pin Noran’s legs to his chest as he straddled his chest. His hip shrieked with pain and Halazzi paced in his head with a yearning to make the kill for the one who’d dared to draw blood but Halk bit down and ignored it all. Digging into his pocket, he grabbed chunk of ipecac root, waiting until Noran clacked his teeth in rage to pop it in. Holding his jaw shut, he growled down at his friend, “Chew, damnit. You have to do this.”

Noran shook his head, eyes narrowed and disdainful. Halk growled, resisting the urge to slap him. “Fine. Act like a child.” He rumbled, pinching his nostrils shut as Noran bucked underneath him, finally starting to chew as he began to run out of air.

His eyes went wide and Halk hastily climbed off, flipping Noran onto his side as he began to puke. Holding his hair back, the feathers that Halk’d tied in himself digging into his hands, the Halazzi Primal watched carefully. Finally, a carved bit of wood came up, roughly the size of a bean, and Halk stood to crush it underfoot, Noran’s body convulsing for a moment before sagging to the ground.

Letting out a deep, grateful breath, Halk cocked his head to the side, cracking his neck as he headed over to where he’d left his bag. After wiping the bile and small fragments of wood on his foot onto a tuft of grass, he turned back to eye Noran. “You dumbass. You don’t go anywhere alone with them, remember?”

"I was drunk." Noran groaned, his long, lanky limbs splayed across the ground. He suddenly popped his head up, staring with unblinking, massive yellow eyes at Halk. "You are back from your trip. Is everyone alright?"

Rolling his eyes, Halk snagged a bottle of clear liquor from his bag and a clean rag as he began to clean off the multitude of cuts on his body. “Yeah. Lost one of the older Jan’alai Primals, but she was old, we all expected it. Cato got an arrow in the gut, so he’s doing his hibernating shit up in the woods, got Anok with him.”

Noran winced at the mention of Anok’s name, voice low, “I did not hurt him, correct?”

"Nah man." Halk said, yowling a bit as the alcohol filtered into one of the deeper cuts. He shook his head fiercely in a futile attempt to get rid of the pain, looking over to Noran again. "You freaked him the fuck out. He did the right thing and came and found me after he got you up here, but still. Dumbass left you with your bow, you almost shot me."

A frown slid across his face as Noran tilted his head to eye Halk’at, his gaze unnerving with his broad hooked nose and eyes that felt like being stripped to bones. “I enjoy being around him. I’m… very glad that I did not hurt him.”

"Don’t get too attached, man." Halk muttered, grabbing a pot of ointment from his bag. He could feel Halazzi working under his skin, the cuts mending, but something to numb them was an appealing idea. "You know how that ends. Keep him to warm your bedroll, and that’s it."

Noran shook his head, feathers rattling against each other. “He’s survived this long. And you and I are friends, and you haven’t died yet.”

Halk let out a quiet groan as he slapped on some of the numbing ointment onto one of the slashes on his chest, ears perking as he realized what Noran had said. “That’s because we’ve been smart about shit, and because we haven’t risked anything. You’re cool, but you’re no competition when compared to Halazzi. But what you’re talking about? Don’t put anyone above your loa, man. They don’t like it.”

"We would not exist if that was true. Our parents lived long enough to create us. I do not think the loa are truly so petty."

"We’re different from them." He growled out, closing his jar as he tucked it back into his pack. "They might throw the loa an offering every once in a while, but they don’t care about ‘em, not like we do. Shit man, our hearts beat for the loa. You know that feeling when you’re fighting and your body starts shifting and you feel them settling into your bones and you don’t know where they start and you end. This isn’t about the loa being petty or any of that shit, it’s about them making us follow the terms that we agreed to."

Noran’s eyes narrowed as he moved away from his vomit, settling back down onto the ground with a thump, the feathers tied into his hair seeming to bristle in his thick, long red hair. “You know as well as I do that there will never be anyone that I love as much as Akil’zon. He has no reason to be threatened.” He grumbled, pulling his knees up to his chest as he draped his long, thin arms around them.

Halk’at huffed, taking a swig of his alcohol with a wince as it burned down his throat. His voice was gruff as he shook his head, coming over to sit next to Noran, weariness settling in as the adrenaline ebbed out of his system. “Suit yourself. But when he gets killed, don’t blame me.”

"Jattan did not die because of Halazzi or because you loved him. He died because he fought Pytok." Noran murmured.

He couldn’t help but wince, rubbing at his face with a calloused palm. “I was a 13 year old idiot who thought I knew better. I didn’t, and he’s dead now. And fuck you man, don’t bring that shit up around me. I just fuckin’ saved your ass, and what, you bring that up? Told you, didn’t want to hear shit about that again. Jattan’s dead and I ate Pytok’s heart for it, and it’s done. It’s fuckin’ done. I don’t care about that shit anymore.”

Of course, he still did. Jattan had been beautiful, with full lips and a certain grace to everything he did and Halk had fallen hard for him, wrapped up in the idea of love and desperate for physical affection. And then, shortly after his stupid proclamation of affection, the witch doctors had taken notice. Primals were meant to be the sword and spear of the Amani tribe, and nothing was to distract from their training with the loa, not even each other. And so, Jattan was soon pitted in the fighting pits against Pytok, a massive Nal’orakk Primal with a well earned reputation for ferocity. Halk had watched Jattan die in the pits, unable to move as he watched Pytok tear out his throat. As the crowd roared eagerly at the scent of blood, Halk could only hear the memory of Halazzi’s words, ‘You will put no one before me.’

Pytok’s heart had tasted sweet when Halk was finally pitted against him. But he had learned his lesson.

Noran looked over to him, head cocked to the side. “I see that I have hit a nerve.”

"Don’t play that shit, man. Don’t act like you didn’t know exact what you were saying and what it’d do. I know you better than that." Halk growled, taking another swig of his alcohol. 

The Akil’zon Primal chuckled, “True, true. Still, I had rather hoped that your and Cato’s growing closeness was a sign that your peculiar idea had fallen out of favor.”

“‘Fallen out of favor’, for fuck’s sake, you sound like a Zandalari sometimes. And nah man, Cato and I got an understanding. We know that this is.” He took another drink, standing up slowly as he rubbed at his hip, trying to loosen the knotted muscles. “I’m serious though, you talk so proper that it’s disgusting. Even when you were high as a kite.”

Noran cocked his head as he stood as well, plucking his bow from the ground as he slung it over his back. “Oh? And what did I say?” He asked with a grin.

Halk smirked as he grabbed his bag, fluttering his eyelashes at Noran. “Said you’d make me one of your concubines when you became King of the skies. I’m flattered man, really.”

"A concubine? You?" Noran’s head tilted back, moonlight shining over his short tusks as he laughed, shaking his head. "And that is how you know that I was drugged." 

"Hey, I’m a catch and you know it." Halk huffed.

"You would make a terrible concubine. I can see it now, we would put you in the harem with the others and you would get so bored that we would come back to find that you had eaten them all." He said with a smirk, reaching a hand forward to rest his fingertips lightly on Halk’s forearm, mindful of his sharp curved nails. "But I do thank you, Halk’at. I am glad you were around to keep me from getting myself killed." 

Halk huffed, tapping his pale tusks against Noran’s. “Anytime, man.”


End file.
